Connection
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: "It's not like I want to hear his voice... or I want to talk to him..." .:Late night impulses open doors to all sorts of possibilities:.


He has no idea as to why it's been a constant thought in his mind since it's come to pass that the other's country would very much like to restart a positive relationship with his own. Why it has him thinking back to a time before that resentment, towards a small period in their acquaintance with each other where they may or may not have made the mistake in thinking there would always be a bond between them.

Perhaps it's recalling the moment when their friendship was put to an end and where he cut off all connection to the other shortly thereafter - their next and only real contact being during the second World War and only for very brief periods of time that seemed to be filled with a stifling tension - as well as the constant state of restlessness he finds himself partaking in after tossing and turning so much in bed that makes him move for the small device resting on top of his nightstand.

-.-

_"It's not like I want to hear his voice... or I want to talk to him..."_

-.-

When America's phone rings in the late hours of the afternoon, he thinks of it as nothing particular. It's still a standard time of day to be making calls, no need to second guess. It's when he finally takes a gander at the caller ID that his eyebrow raises itself closer to his hairline before pressing the 'talk' button and raising it up to his ear.

"Russia?" he half greets and half questions. "What's up, big guy?"

Silence on the other end.

"Russia? Hellooooo?"

He isn't able to say much more, as only a moment later he hears a click followed by even more silence and blinking numbers that show just how long the lines were connected. America only switches the screen back to his wallpaper before pocketing it back into his jeans, figuring that the entire incident has only been an accident (butt dialing happens all the time) and doesn't give it another thought.

Yet when the same thing occurs the next day at around the same time, America takes the initiative to actually count the time zone difference and comes to understand that the two calls have been made in the early hours of the day for the other nation, leaving coincidental dialing to be an explanation no longer optional. After all, what are the chances of the same incident occurring twice at the same time when Russia should be in bed fast asleep?

America frowns down at the object in his hands, the flashing numbers still going off before the screen goes to black. In all actuality, it still could be a possibility. Perhaps Russia has taken to habit of sleeping in his clothes, too tired from the work day to change into night wear let alone empty his pockets. He could simply be rolling around in his sleep. Now that's a mental image that has America slightly chuckle at for some reason.

Or maybe the other is relieving boredom from late night paperwork by hassling the blonde. A sort of cell phone version of ding-dong-ditch, although it'd be more effective to hang up the moment he answers and not linger some seconds afterwards. America instantly rolls his eyes at the thought. Leave it to Russia to do it wrong.

In any case, America pockets his phone and makes a certain schedule for the next day, making sure that he'll be free for around this time and without company so that he may test out his theories. Sure enough, around four in the afternoon his phone goes off, singing out the newly assigned ring tone and he answers promptly and puts it up to his ear.

"If I find out this isn't your ass calling me, I'm gonna be pissed."

The line instantly goes dead, assuring the blonde that Russia is indeed awake and perfectly aware of his actions. Accidental butt-dialing is now no longer an option, which only leaves to figure out the reason why these _intentional_ calls are being made.

Honestly, America has no idea. As far as he knows there's been no real fighting between them, just the small jabs of passive aggressiveness that transpires between them when they do meet, though that's usually more traditional than something that is taken seriously by either one. Or at least on America's part, most of the time.

With a small sigh, America plans to keep his schedules free during the afternoons to make certain he is always available to answer his phone for as long as the other keeps making them. There has to be something he can say that will cause the other to break his silence. Thus beginning America's streak of answering the phone with more than just a standard 'hello'.

"I just found out pencil's explode in space, you frickin' liar."

"Did you know vodka causes can- Hey! Let me finish before you hang up…"

"After seeing some stuff, I'm calling bullshit on that condom joke."

"City Morgue… Ha! You thought, huh?"

"So, what are you wearing?"

"Have you ever drank sulphuric acid?"

"This is starting to get pretty old, don'tcha think?"

"Will you just _say_ something already!"

Getting a little fed up with this game, America does something he probably should have done since the beginning and calls back. He's immediately connected with Russia's voicemail and blinded by momentary annoyance proceeds to leave a message and states that he can play a game just as well as the other can and hangs up.

When the red clears from his vision though and he's able to think clearly about what's been recorded, America is determined to prove his words true.

"I can outlast him," he says to himself. "No problem."

However, after a month of being called and hung up on, it seems as though Russia's finally given up his little game after a week or so passes with no word from him (not that there were words to begin with). Frankly though, America couldn't be happier.

No more annoying afternoon phone calls to revolve his day around, no mystery that needs any dissecting, and no more constant badgering on his part to get the other to finally say something before that inevitable click hits his ears. Yup, there'll be no more of that.

He certainly won't miss the attention, not at all.

-.-

Another week passes and America begins to wonder if something's happened with the other nation. There's been nothing reported though, on either television or the Internet…

Not that he's actually all that concerned about Russia's well being, it's just that it's his business to know how everyone is fairing. It's part of his job, as a hero.

-.-

When the third week comes America finally vows to stop checking his phone every other minute for missed alerts because it's obvious that Russia's decided to just plain ignore him now. Well, fine, America can just ignore him back.

-.-

He doesn't miss the phone calls.

Why would he?

-.-

It's nearly nine in the morning when Russia is preparing to leave his home and ready himself to deal with living another day as the anthropomorphic personification of his homeland when his own cell phone starts ringing. He recognizes the caller instantly, the ring tone giving away the surprise, and quickly contemplates whether or not to answer.

He does in the end, answering with the common greeting and waits for a response. He's not all too surprised that there is none given, and just as he's about to end the connection, he hears a slightly frustrated sigh.

"I have no idea how you're able to stay quiet," the other line answers. "'Cause I sure as hell can't."

"I would think the reason being is because you are too loud and obnoxious to remain silent for so long," he smiles into the receiver.

He nearly hums happily as he can hear America bristling over the phone just by the tone of his voice when he says, "Or maybe it's just because I'm not a frickin' creeper like you."

Russia doesn't take any offense to the insult, instead he jabs back with, "That would also explain your handicap when it comes to espionage."

He can hear America breathe in sharply and he patiently waits for their small back and forth to carry on with whatever it is the blonde will throw back. Instead however, America responds to the comment with, "I wanna ask you something."

Russia finds himself a bit taken aback by the lack of insult. All the same, he calmly asks what it is America wishes to question.

"What were all those phone calls about?"

"Hm?"

"Don't play stupid, you were calling me every night for like a month but would just hang up after I answered."

"Ah, those…"

"Yeah, those…"

"There was no particular reason behind them," Russia tells him in all honesty. "It was simply because I would be able to sleep easier if the call connected."

America gives him no reply on the other end, and Russia can only imagine how he must look at the moment; perfectly still with his phone to his ear, most likely blinking rapidly as well as wearing some kind of foolish expression while attempting to come up with some form of response.

This mental impression has his smile grow a little larger (and a little more genuine) and he quickly gives his goodbye before the blonde could open his mouth and ruin the picture for him. Russia quickly shuts off his phone, pockets it before adjusting his scarf, and goes on with his day.

And while he does so, in his own home, America sits 'Indian style' on his bed covered with spread out sheets of late night paper work and his phone still to his ear.

"Well," he says to no one other than himself, "as long as they didn't mean anything."

**xxx**

Disclaimer: How ever far away~…

-So this is a one-shot written for someone who actually loves Grant Morrison as much as I do. :D

-Prompt was to Hetalia-fy a doujin using this pairing which was really fun actually. But now I fear that this is going to lead me to RussiAmerica-fy many other things...

-Anyway, hope it was what you were expecting, madam. It was a pleasure to write for you, so I hope you enjoy. And don't be a stranger, y'hear. Always up for a good comic discussion. ^-^


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